The Training Room
by spectre666
Summary: Reflections from an observer
1. Chapter 1

Training day

_I hate him. When I first met him, I thought of him (if I thought at all) as just an idiot, a useless bungler along for the redhead's comfort zone. Now, after watching him, after waiting for her to realize...I truly hate him._

I.

"Mommy?"

The woman looked at me out of her unbandaged eye.

"Poppa?"

Her eye glistened as she looked away. "Willy,.." She choked, and to my young confusion, knelt and pulled me into a tight hug. "Willy, Mommy and Poppa won't be coming back."

I felt confused, worried. Had I done something bad, didn't they love me anymore? Why would they leave me?

'Willy," She tightened her already tight hold, "don't worry Willy, you won't be abandoned, I promise." The semi-stranger, to my child's eyes, stood and beckoned to two men behind me.

They came forward and took me away. Away from my home, my family, and any chance I ever had at a normal childhood. Took me away into loneliness.

II.

He makes it look like a joke. A training scenario I worked weeks to devise, that the cheerleader has to sweat to get through on her sixth attempt. He only showed up today, and even loosing his pants, falling on his face, and stumbling, he has beaten both our times. I can see her chiding him, brushing him off, telling him to be more careful. I know she thinks it's only his luck and "dumb skill" that got him through it, but I know better. No one is that lucky, that consistently.

III.

They tell me I didn't speak for six weeks after being taken away. I don't remember. I remember being given a training garment, I remember being gently tossed, and I remember fatigue. My childhood seems to be constantly fatigued. I began my day early, classes with tutors, all of whom looked at me as a job, a project.

I learned, I struggled, but I learned. The woman I latter came to know as Dr. Director came by occasionally. She wasn't the director then, but she would stop by two or three times a year to check my progress. I still have never learned how she forced GJ to commit the funds and personnel to train me, but somehow, she did. My major memory of her is her refusal to look at me. Always asking questions of my instructors, and dutifully asking me if I was being a good boy. A perfunctory, "Keep up the good work." and she would be gone for another six or more months. Still, she was the only semi-constant I had in life. As I mastered or improved in a subject, my instructors would leave, to be replaced by other nameless taskmasters.

I waited for her visits. She was the last person in my childhood to touch me in any but an instructional manner. She only did it the one time, when she told me I was alone, but I yearned for it again.

IV.

For an amateur she's very good. Stripped of her gadgets and gizmo's, her agility allows her to make her way through the training ground on her seventh attempt. The changing scenario slows her down, but she manages to leap the last obstacle, nearly matching my best time. Dr. Director walks out of the far observation booth, gesturing to her. They walk through a side door, leaving me alone with the buffoon. I know I shouldn't, but I have to know. I learned a long time ago how to trick the computers into recording what I wanted, not what was happening. I am going to find out his secret, even, or especially if, I have to kill him to do it. A training accident.

VI.

I have never had a friend. Many acquaintances and colleagues, of course, but never a friend. I think I absorbed the combat vets philosophy throughout my childhood. I remember the remark of one instructor clearly, "In war, you have buddies, but not friends. It hurts too much when you lose a friend." Call it cowardice, but I have followed that advice.

VII.

He's doing it. I don't know how, but he's doing it. Stumbling, falling, being nicked and nearly missed, but he's doing it. He is slowly but surely getting across the training ground. He seems to know which beams are lethal, when the live rounds will be fired. How is he doing it? How? There is no possible way a human being should be able to navigate the killing ground I have set up without being at least wounded, but he's doing it. How?

VIII.

He's across, meeting the cheerleader and Dr. Director as they emerge from the side room. As he stands waiting for them to reach him, his pants fall down. Dr. Director only raises one brow, while the cheerleader giggles at his molerat patterned boxers. Still giggling, she grabs him in a tight hug, whirling him around. When they stop, she nuzzles his chest, while Dr. Director focuses on the device she is holding.

I am the only one that sees the hard brown gaze that reaches for me. Telling me, he knows.


	2. Chapter 2

Training Room: Chapter two

I.

The moist crack of breaking bone echoed off the alley walls as I fell to my back. "Just finish it!" I screamed at the darkness, "For God's sake, just finish it."

"Oh, no." The soft, kind voice whispered from the shadows. "That wouldn't be the right lesson at all."

II.

He was rapidly becoming my obsession. I could find nothing that explained him. Not the weeks of films from the 'Ron factor' fiasco. Not the personal files. Not even Possible's purloined diary. According to all the data, he was just a bumbler; a fool who sometimes fell into the right place.

I know different. I know he is something more, something dangerous. And no matter what it takes or costs, I am going to find out what he is.

III.

Dr. Director sometimes brainstormed with me. Bouncing ideas, tasting scenarios, just letting her mind float. Today's discussion was the amateur. Whether she had a future with Global Justice or not. The sidekick did not factor into the final call. This was for Possible alone. To see if she was good enough.

"All right, I would normally send you, but this should be fairly easy. We will provide her with all necessary information and equipment. She will be informed that all of our agents are currently occupied..."

"Is that really needed." She quirked an eyebrow in question. "Possible has rarely, if ever, asked why we call on her instead of using our own people. Whether it is arrogance or contempt for GJ, unnecessary explanations will only make her suspicious."

She steepled her fingers, tapping them together. "Good point. We'll contact her through Load, usual procedure, nothing different. Last, are we sure this guy is as incompetent as we think?"

"I'm certain. Ma'am, he tried to take over the world by placing laxatives in a bubble gum that was due to be discontinued."

For a moment I thought she was going to laugh, but only a twitch of her lip betrayed her.

"All right, issue the orders. I want full surveillance on this. Everything is to be recorded. I need to see how she handles herself without Stoppable for moral support."

She turned away, dismissing me, her mind already on other projects.

"I'll see to it, Dr. Director." I left the room to begin my test.

IV.

"How did this happen." Dr. Director's voice and eyes were cold. "You informed me the man was incompetent."

I stood at rigid attention. My eyes on the wall ten inched above her head. "Ma'am, unknown to us, he had recently formed a partnership."

"Yes, with a psychopath who hates Kim Possible. You didn't think that might be relevant?"

"Ma'am, we were informed she was a sometime girl friend, that's all. The ID and picture did not..."

"Did you think of trying to get a sample of DNA for positive ID?"

"Ma'am, she was just another ditzy blonde. I didn't think the extra expense and time were warranted."

"You didn't think?" Her tone was lethal. "You certainly did not **think**. An escaped lunatic, who had already shown homicidal tendencies, who blamed Possible for the loss of her career, the loss of her life, and the loss of her future. You did not **think** that was important?"

"Ma'am, as I said, I had no indication that..."

"Silence. You are on suspension for one month. When you return, I will decide whether further action is necessary. In the meantime, I have to decide what to tell her parents, and how to explain to Stoppable how we let things get so out of hand."

"Ma'am, I..."

"I said silence! The only good thing about this whole screw up is that she isn't dead." She turned away from me. "Keep me informed of your location and intentions, agent. Otherwise report back in thirty days."

"Ma'am, I..."

"You are dismissed, Mister."

With no other choice, I did a parade perfect about face, I shut the door gently behind me. I would allow none of the gawkers to see me upset. That would wait until I could confront Stoppable. This was his fault. Somehow, someway, this was his fault.

V.

With very little to spend it on, my considerable salary had been banked. While I am not, by any means, wealthy, I am able to afford to rent this apartment/dojo without straining my funds. The Realtor explained that the owner was only gone for six weeks, and I would have to move then. That suited me perfectly.

Without GJ's extensive network, I had been reduced to doing research at the local University. With one short night time trip to peruse Stoppable's school records. Surprisingly, the school records had led me to the one item not mentioned in his file. A two week 'transfer' to a school in Japan. Although it seemed innocent enough, there was something about that incident. I knew I was on to something, when I could not access anything about the school, either in the University stacks or on the web. Only an old legend. Some nonsense about a magic sword and a guardian. But I know there is something there.

I was half way through my daily workout, when the light's went out. Leaving the dojo only brightened by the moon shining through the roof windows. I immediately adopted a fighting stance, ready to attack or defend. After all, I am a top agent.

V.

"Have you ever danced with the devil in the pale moonlight?"

"What?" I know he is trying to unnerve me. It won't work.

"I always wanted to say that. This seems like an appropriate time and setting." The voice came from everywhere and no where.

"Show yourself." If I could see him, I could take him.

A black clad figure emerged from the shadows. I immediately went for a disabling strike. He somehow dodged my surprise attack.

"All right, let's dance." I could hear cold laughter in his voice. I was amusing him! Well, good, if he was overconfident, so much the better. I did not become a top agent playing patty cake.

VI.

"Just finish it! For God's sake, just finish it!"

I couldn't help myself. For over an hour he had toyed with me. Sometimes letting me think my strikes would work, sometimes stumbling or falling. Then he said, gently, "The dance is over, let the lesson begin."

And the pain began.

Every blow I sent at him was met by a light touch that felt like my nerves were frying. The knife I grabbed was taken away and broken. When he broke my elbow, I ran. Stumbling and falling, my nerves on fire with agony, I ran. He let me.

From the shadows, he followed me. At irregular intervals he would touch me, as if to guide me, each touch breaking something. A finger, a shoulder, nothing that would keep me from running. Running to this alley. Now my legs are snapped, my arms like twigs. Out of the darkness he spoke once more. "So ends the lesson."

He leaned over me, "If it happens again, tell Betty she becomes the student."

VII.

I must have passed out, or maybe he knocked me out. All I know is that I woke up in the GJ infirmary, immobilized by the flypaper of casts, wires and tubes. Someone had activated my emergency beacon. Someone.

I know it was Stoppable, I know it. But who will believe me. I saw the security video of him falling on his face, crying, as he went to Possible's wheelchair. I heard the faint sneers of some of the agents. _"What a man. He should be out looking for the ones who did it, not crying on her shoulder."_

The agents are frustrated. They have been unable to develop any leads on Possible's assailants. One even said that he was beginning to think they had dug a hole and crawled in. I fear he was more right than he knew. A hole can also be a grave.


	3. Chapter 3

The Training Room: Chapter 3

I.

Six months. Six wasted months. It has taken me this long to get back to partial duty status. I think I am ready for the field, but the medics keep saying no. The one bright spot in this dismal debacle has been that Dr. Director allowed me to reinstate the surveillance on Stoppable. Of course, she thinks the surveillance is on Possible, to see how she is handling her therapy and recuperation. If I weren't convinced of Stoppable's deception, I would have been insulted. This is a job for a desk jockey, any of hundreds of bean counters, not a top agent. She told me to begin the oversight with an air of "maybe you can get this right" that made me want to resign on the spot. Instead I said "Yes, Ma'am", determined to find the proof I need.

II.

"Agent, who did this?"

"I don't know." Surprisingly, throughout the 'lesson', he had never touched my face.

"You have no idea who could do this to you? No clues after a fight you say lasted over an hour? You've been trained better than that." Her tone was almost accusatory.

"Ma'am, it was dark, and I never saw his face."

She frowned a moment. "All right, you never saw his features, but what about his fighting style? Did you recognize that?"

"I know of no school that teaches the style he used." I wasn't lying.

"So you've never seen this school of martial arts before?"

"No, Ma'am." Again, not a lie. Although both she and I had seen the style before, many times. But who would believe that fumbling calamity was actually an art? A more lethal martial art than any I had ever heard of.

"What about body type? Surely you can describe that?"

"About five foot seven, maybe eight. Slender, well muscled."

"Male or female?"

"Male."

"How can you be sure? From that description, if I can call it that, it could be either."

"It was a man."

"Are you certain you're not letting your ego make the decision?" I could see the accusation of male ego in her eyes.

"Ma'am, after all these years, do you really believe I don't know there are female fighters out there, for that matter," I looked her straight in the eye, "in here."

She stood, "All right, I'll put out the warning to all agents to look out for a medium height, well built man who uses an unknown style. All reports to come directly to me." She turned to leave. Then glanced back over her shoulder. "Maybe if we get lucky, we can get a lead because of his injuries. After that fight, he must have some."

I looked away from her. "No injuries."

She turned back fully, "Are you trying to tell me that one of my best agents, someone I personally put the polish on, didn't at least injure his assailant?"

She sounded like she had been personally insulted. Whether by my failure or by his competence, I couldn't tell.

"I never touched him."

With one last disbelieving glance, she left my room.

III.

Six months. Six long intensive months. The amateur recovered much faster than the psy-ops boys thought she would. But then, her injuries were mostly mental, not physical. She had no broken bones to knit or overloaded nerves to heal. The medics said my nervous system had all the symptoms of someone given a high voltage of localized electricity. They are still trying to figure out how that was done.

It was the interior injuries that bothered her most. She suffered a lack of confidence, an almost unnoticeable timidity that was never there before. Dr. Director down played it, saying that for an agent to realize their mortality was good, it gave them caution.

Her physical wounds healed unbelievably fast, much faster than mine. We had the same type of care, the same level of physician, the same treatment for specific injuries. At the risk of being obsessed, the only difference I could discover was Stoppable.

He rarely left her side. If her father hadn't insisted he go home, I believe he would have slept at the foot of her bed. A guard dog on duty. A more dangerous dog than any four legged breed ever seen.

IV.

I saw the press conference today. Possible seemed back on top of her game. She took out a would be villain named Dementor. A scheme to take over the world by genetically transforming all cereal crops to poison. Unless, of course, the world submitted and he provided the antidote. The press ignored Stoppable. The one time he was on camera, it was as he was being pushed out of the way so a reporter could get closer to the heroine. Those fools.

I watched the security tapes from Dementor's lab. GJ seized them upon arrival. Stoppable was there, doing his usual screaming, running, and falling. Dr. Director glanced at my screen, then turned to the films of Possible. Commenting only that Possible seemed to have recovered.

"Why can't you see?" I wanted to scream. Yes, Stoppable was being his bufoonish self, but each fall, each trip, each stumble and recover took out a henchman, or redirected a weapon, or cleared Possibles' back of some danger. Why can't anyone see this but me?

V.

"There are monsters in the closet." I tried to explain.

"Son, there are no monsters."

"Yes, there are. They just hide when you come in." To my six year old mind it made perfect sense.

"Then we'll fix that." I was reassured, I trusted this huge man who taught me self defense. Monsters wouldn't attempt him. "After tonight, the monsters will never hide behind your closet door again."

They took the door off the closet.

VI.

"Dr. Director, Ma'am, don't do this."

"Why not? It will be perfectly safe."

In seven months I had never been able to give her the warning. How? If I told her, she would either think I was hallucinating or worse, think I was being paranoid about Stoppable. Someone she had already dismissed. Somehow, without getting a ticket to the shrinks, I had to warn her.

"Ma'am, I'm telling you, this is a bad idea."

"Why? I will be personally in charge this time. Nothing can go wrong." Unspoken was the accusation of failure.

"Ma'am, Betty, please do not do this. On this, please just trust me. It's a bad idea."

She looked at me almost with compassion, before dismissing my objections.

"Agent, the plan goes forward. I have to know if Possible is back to form."


	4. Chapter 4

The Training Room: Chapter 4

I.

The mission is over. Possible survived. Dr. Director is all smiles, the staff high fiveing each other in congratulation. I am the only one not celebrating. I know, from some of the raised brows and hidden smiles that many think it is jealousy. How do I tell them it is fear?

II.

"Ron, you of all people should know how Kim is about giant insects." Dr. Director said with a smile.

Stoppable rubbed the back of his neck, "Yeah, yeah, I know Dr. Director, but see, Kim needs me to be with her."

"Ron, Yatsby has turned these creatures vicious. If you don't go in and talk to them, stop them, we will have no choice but to use massive force. I'm sure you understand the possibility of collateral damage if that happens."

Stoppable looked torn, the agents in the command center hid their snickers out of the camera's range. "I know, Dr. Director, and I really would like to help, but if KP gets called on a mission..."

"You have my personal guarantee that any mission Kim goes on while you are away will be safe." Dr. Director said confidently.

"You mean like getting cats out of trees? I dunno, Dr. D., some of those kittens can be vicious. I had to..."

"Yes, like that, if necessary, we'll send stun gas up the tree, Ron." Dr. Director smiled.

My guts turned to water. Didn't she know what she had just done? She lied to him. Oh, God, she lied to him.

Stoppable's trademark goofy smile bloomed, "Well, as long as you say it's safe, Dr. D., I'll tell KP and your boys can pick me up at her house in, say, two hours?"

"That will be fine, Ronald, GJ out." Dr. Director blanked the screen. "Now, is the mission for Possible set?"

"We've held back, and only maintained surveillance, as you ordered." The Senior agent of the detail reported. "Drakken and Shego are still in their lair."

"Any idea what he's attempting this time? Another 'ray of doom' I suppose." Dr. Director smiled.

"No idea, all attempts at interior reconnaissance have failed."

"Well, he's an idiot. Start setting it up. Two days after Stoppable leaves, we contact Possible."

Somehow, without being confined, I have to convince her. Explain how she has condemned herself with her own words.

III.

I could not allow myself to be seen on the surveillance tapes. The delay caused me to arrive at Possible's home in time to hear Stoppable call from the GJ hovercraft ramp, "Be back in three days, KP, and I'll bring you a mole rat pinata."

Possible smiled and waved farewell. I left.

IV.

The technicians say the disrupted security films were caused by the heat of the explosion. I maintain my silence. They are, after all, the 'experts'. No one notices or cares to question the single frame that appears to be a giant sword shielding Possible from Shego's blast.

V.

"All right, Will, you can now say 'I told you so', but only a small one." Dr. Director's mood was jovial. "The plan fell through, but Kim finished the mission. No harm, no foul."

"Dr. Director, I request that I be allowed to speak to Agent Betty. In private."

Her mood soured, "Agent Du, you are beginning to..."

I was desperate, "In total privacy, Ma'am. If you please."

Her eye focused on me in disapproval. She sighed and reached into her desk. "All right, now,"

She sat a small device on her desk. "This little dingus, invented by and licensed to us by Dr. Load, guarantees that we have privacy from all electronic listening devices." She flipped a switch under her desk and solid blast guards covered the windows. "Even Superman couldn't see through those to read our lips, they are four inches of solid lead alloy." She glanced at her watch. "Now, in light of your past service, you have five minutes. Talk fast." She folded her hands.

"It was Stoppable." Betty grimaced, her mouth opening to deride me, "Wait, let me finish. There is no way I can prove it, but I know it. The one thing I haven't told anyone is that he left me a warning. He called it a lesson. He told me to tell you that if it happened again, you would become the student."

She rubbed her brow with one hand, "Will, why haven't you said anything before?"

"Because I knew the reaction would be just what you are doing now. Dismissal of any idea that Stoppable beat me."

"You were in a lot of pain. Are you sure you weren't hallucinating."

"Ma'am, I know what he said."

"Tell me exactly what he said then."

"His exact words were 'If it happens again, tell Betty she becomes the student'."

"All right, Will, say I believe you, say Stoppable is everything you think. This is still not the same. Possible completed the mission."

"Two points, Ma'am. Number one, you lied..."

"I may have mislead Stoppable, but I don't believe I..."

"Call it what you will, he will consider it a lie. Two, Possible may have completed the mission, but she did not come through it unscathed."

"Minor cuts and bruises."

"She bled. That's all he'll see."

"She'll be out of action for a couple of weeks at the most. As Possible would say, 'so not the drama'."

I was growing desperate, I could see the disbelief in her eye. "Betty, how did she do it?"

"What?"

"How did she complete the mission?"

"I'm not really sure. The tapes show her down, with Shego firing a massive blast at her, then they blank, then we have the final shots of her standing over an unconscious Drakken and Shego. The best theory we can come up with is that she reacted automatically."

"She took out Shego, her worst enemy, while semi conscious?"

"You have a better idea?"

I could tell her patience was almost gone. "Yes, Stoppable did something."

"Right." Her derision was gentle, but present, "From the middle of Brazil, Stoppable somehow saved his girlfriend. Oh, I forgot, she was in Canada. Well, that's just a short jump for Superman isn't it?"

"Then tell me how she stopped that blast. Shego was still attached to Drakken's power amplification machine."

"Will, this is Drakken we're talking about. That would even explain how Possible was able to capture them. His machine malfunctioned, and the blow back knocked him and his accomplice out. Possible just restrained them while they were out cold."

"The machine functioned..."

"Will," She grimaced, "Agent Du," the private conference was over, "you are not going to believe me no matter what arguments I come up with. I want you to report to medical, for a thorough examination."

"Dr. Director, I..."

"Now, Agent Du. Dismissed." She raised the blast shields and lowered her eye to the paper work on her desk. As I left I heard her tell my back, softly,"It'll be all right, Willy, it will be all right."

V.

I entered my room exhausted. That idiot psych team. 'Did I resent my parents for dying?' How would I know, I barely remembered them. My exhaustion disappeared in an adrenaline surge, along with the message in blue flame on my mirror. "Let the lesson begin."


	5. Chapter 5

The Training Room: Chapter 5

I.

I stared at the flames until they slowly flickered out. All I could think of was a door being removed, the monsters turned loose upon the world. I gathered myself and raced to Dr. Director's quarters. I was desperate to warn her, to somehow save her. I should have known better.

II.

"Remember, Willy, Global Justice is a noble idea. We bring justice to parts of the globe that have never seen it before. The director is determined that we will live up to our name, and I'm with him one hundred percent."

"But," I looked up at the eye patched woman, "it's an awful big world."

"It gets smaller everyday, Willy. We have to make sure justice happens, or there may not be a world."

"Wow." I stared at her with awed eyes. "That's what I want to do when I grow up. Bring justice to the world."

"You will, Willy. That's why your studies and exercises are so important, Now, you will work harder, won't you."

I straightened my ten year old shoulders, "Yes, ma'am. I'm gonna be the best."

She patted my shoulder, "I know you will, Willy, I know you will." She turned and left.

I did not see her again for seven months.

III.

R & D had come up with a pocket laser that looked like a square cell phone. It only had two discharges, both lethal, before the energy cell was drained. I carried one with me always, now. Even he couldn't dodge a laser. With it in my hand, I jimmied the seal on Dr. Director's quarters, moving silently into the room. Silence. No music, no tv, no computer, none of the normal sounds of someone relaxing off duty. I gripped my weapon tighter. Movement. I clenched my teeth to stop their chattering. Whirling I brought my weapon to bear on...a naked Dr. Betty Director towel drying her hair.

"DU! What the hell do you think you're doing?" She screamed, trying frantically to wrap the too small towel around herself.

"I...I...I..."

She spun back into the bathroom, her bare back reproaching me. "Get the hell out of here, Du. I'll speak to you shortly."

"I...I...Dr. Director, I..."

"Out! Now!"

I stiffened my weakening resolve. "Dr. Director, I have reason to believe that your life or well being may be in danger. This is an emergency, I have to speak to you now."

The silence stretched, tightening my already wired nerves.

"All right, get my robe out of the bedroom and bring it here."

I fetched her cover, a slim hand reaching around the door to snatch it from me. A moment later a patchless Betty Director strode into the living area. Her eyes drilling into me. Eyes? She must have read my question in my body language.

Striding to a chair, she said over her shoulder, "It's a false eye. I don't wear the patch when I'm off duty."

I had never seen her without her patch.

IV.

"All right, Will, I just received confirmation of my appointment as Director of Global Justice. As one of my first acts, I am promoting you to full agent. You did well on those three missions you assisted me on. I think it's time you stepped up."

"Thank you, Ma'am." I was filled with pride that my friend trusted me so much.

V.

Sitting wrapped in her long, dark blue, velor robe, Dr. Director glared at me. "All right, Agent Du, explain yourself."

I stood to attention, "Dr. Director, when I returned to my quarters after the evaluation, there was writing on the mirror. It said, 'Let the lesson begin'."

She looked at me, "Fine, let's go look at this message, then call forensics."

"You can't."

"Why not?"

"It was written in blue flames. They went out as I read them."

"If there was fire, there was heat. Forensics will be able to read it."

"There was no trace, Ma'am."

I could see the disbelief in her eyes. "Will," she drew a deep, slow, calming breath, "are you still on about Stoppable?"

"Ma'am, it was him. I'm sure of it."

I could see the skepticism and anger in eyes changing slowly to compassion and pity. "Will, let's look at this logically. How did whoever leave a burning message on your mirror?"

"I don't know."

"How did he know when you would be in your quarters?"

"I don't know."

"For that matter, how did he get in? This is one of the most, if not the most, secure facilities in the world. How did he get in?"

"I don't know."

"Will, what do you know?"

"I know that Stoppable somehow gained entry to this facility and left a message for me. I know that he's coming for you next."

She rubbed her temples with slim fingers, "Agent Du, this obsession you've developed about Stoppable is unhealthy." She raised her eyes to mine. "Ron Stoppable is a loyal, brave, if somewhat inept, sidekick. He is obviously in love with Possible, and would do anything for her. But, he has neither the ability or the knowledge to do what you say he's done. Possible, maybe. But not Stoppable."

"Ma'am, I..."

She raised her hand to halt me. "Agent Du, you will return to your quarters and confine yourself there until I send for you. Do you understand."

"Ma'am, yes, Ma'am." I spoke through clenched teeth.

"Will, you need help, and I'm going to see that you get it. Now go to your quarters."

I left without another word.

VI.

I remained at headquarters under semi-arrest for a month. Barely a week had gone by when the scuttlebutt began. Mission failures, agents found incapacitated either by alcohol or other means. A gathering storm of incompetence and failure. And through it shone the glittering success of Kim Possible. Finishing missions that Global Justice started. Rescuing captured agents. A growing string of golden success to match against GJ's expanding defeats. No one would talk to me, or even meet my eyes, but I still managed to keep abreast. One morning I was awakened abruptly. My gear taken away, civilian clothing handed to me, and whisked to this "Rest" facility. A secure asylum for GJ agents. No commitment papers necessary. After all, we are all trained and dangerous agents, an obvious threat to the world at large if we crack. I have gained a reputation with the staff as "recalcitrant". After all, why should I talk to these fools, they won't believe me.

VII.

I've been in this place for five months now, five long, interminable, frustrating months. Helpless. An attendant approached me as I sat on the veranda.

"Mr. Du, you have a visitor."

"Who would want to visit a failure?" My bitterness has begun, in spite of my best efforts, to break out now and again.

"Dr. Director, sir, she says it's urgent."

I rose reluctantly and followed him to the visitor's lounge. I peered through the doorway at my former 'friend' and superior. The time had not been kind to her. She had lost weight, the skin stretched tight on her cheeks. Her eyes nervously glancing about the room, she sat with her hands clasped together.

"To what do I owe the honor?" I announced myself on entering.

Her patchless face raised to mine, her good eye twitching. "Will, he came to see me last night."


	6. Chapter 6

The Training Room: Chapter 6

I.

I should have felt relief that she finally believed me, or vindication, or satisfaction that she had now suffered as I had, or something. Instead, all I could feel was a chilling numbness. A foreboding sense that Stoppable was not through yet, with me or Dr. Director. Without speaking, I motioned to one of the attendants, pointing at the patio. He nodded, and mimed drinking. I nodded back, then motioned Dr. Director to follow me.

Outside, away from possible microphones, I pulled back a chair for her, then seated myself. I clasped my numb hands together, trying to regain control. When I was certain I had it, I said all I thought I needed to say. "Stoppable?"

Dr. Director's head came up sharply, her startled gaze searching mine. "Stoppable? Will, are you still worried about the sidekick?"

I don't know what she thought she saw in my face, but her hands came up placatingly. "Will, I checked everything. Stoppable's whereabouts, his times with Possible, his injuries, everything. I'm telling you there is no way he did this."

I managed to unclench my teeth. "You still don't believe me, do you?"

"Will, you...I mean...when I..." I interrupted her stammering attempt at reassurance.

"Why don't you just tell me about the visit."

She looked away, swallowing harshly. "Will, how much do you know about what's been happening the last five months?"

"Not much. They try to keep us fairly isolated. "Excitement or anxiety might retard out progress" is, if I remember correctly, what the head quack said."

She kept her gaze averted. "Will, GJ has been going to hell in a hand basket." She paused to relax her fists. "It began before you were transferred for further assistance. Mission failures, public knowledge of mistakes, what looked like pesky bad luck. And Possible was always there when we screwed up."

"Was every mission during that time a failure?"

"No, it seemed at first they were just random, unrelated incidences. But then the frequency of failure began to shift. Instead of being random, anything I personally was involved in began to fall apart. If I came up with an idea for research, it ended in a dry hole. If I planned a mission, it became a colossal failure. Not every time, but enough." Her head whipped around as her palm slapped the table in anger. "I began to look like an idiot. A complete incompetent."

I waited for her to regain control. "Go on."

Her eye dropped, "Everything I tried failed. I couldn't figure it out. As long as I stayed away, the agency functioned, not at peak, but enough. I began to think I was loosing my mind. But I knew I could get it under control, I just had to find out what was behind it. But yesterday...yesterday I ran out of time."

She suddenly looked defeated, weary. I had never seen her like this before.

"What happened."

"Will, you know GJ gets its authority and funding through a U.N. Security council resolution, right?"

I nodded, why was she bringing up this old history, surely a non sequitur.

"There are many nations, and people, who do not agree with the resolution. Countries that do not like us crossing their borders unannounced, or assuming police powers in their country. Also many who consider the UN corrupt and a waste of time. And we are tarred with the same brush since we are a nominal UN agency."

"Ancient history." I murmured.

"Not so ancient. Have you ever heard of a United States senator named Austin?"

I searched my memory, but I could recall little except the name. "The name, yes, but..."

"He considers himself a Constitutionalist independent. He has very little use for the major political parties of the US, and none at all for the UN. In fact, one of his major campaigns in the Senate is to negate the UN association."

"Sounds like a crackpot. As an independent, he can't have much power."

"Power? No, not officially, but he does have considerable influence. He is a totally ethical man, enjoys enormous popularity in his district, and the press loves to hear him attack the powers that be."

"So?"

"Two weeks ago I was 'requested' to appear before an investigating committee chaired by Senator Austin."

I felt uneasy, the United States had no official authority over GJ, but..."Did you go?"

"Will, despite all the pretty words about 'nations sharing the burden', the UN gets the majority of its funding from the US and it's allies. When the Secretary General thinks it might be a good idea if an agency head responds to a request, that agency head had better appear."

"A public questioning of an independent agency?"

"No, private and confidential." She stood and took a few agitated steps away then back. "Du, it was a set up. Don't ask me how, but he had proof of actions that I thought were long buried. How the original director strong armed and blackmailed UN members, and some US senators to approve Global Justice's charter. Details about wasted finances, money spent on exotic and useless research..."

"The Ron Factor." I interrupted.

For a moment she almost smiled, "That was one of his examples. I thought he was going to have a stroke when he talked about the Rufus Factor research though."

"And then?"

"I'm afraid I lost my temper. I informed the Senator that he had no need to know about the actions of Global Justice, or our methods. That in fact, he had no authority over my agency. Then I stood up and left."

"I take it the Senator was not happy?"

"He didn't say anything when I left. But yesterday I was informed that I had thirty days to wind up my Directorship, and place all agents on indefinite leave of absence by the Secretary General."

I jerked upright in my chair. "They...they can't do that! Destroy GJ? After all we've done!"

She waved her hand in sad dismissal. "Oh, they're not going to destroy GJ, the mission statement is going to be changed is all. Now GJ will be a global information gathering bureau for the police forces of the member nations. As such, it has no need for independent research or field agents."

'How..." I pulled myself together, "how did it happen."

"My sources tell me that the Senator only hit the highlights, or lowlights if you will, with me. He informed various other Senators, and the SG, that the files in his possession were going to be turned over to his 'friends' in the media, unless certain terms were met."

"And they believed him?"

"Oh, yes, they believed him. So, I'm out of a job, so are you by the way, and you'll be out of here shortly unless "competent medical personnel" declare you insane or a threat. Neither of which I think will happen."

Freedom! But what about..."Dr. Director, you started by saying "he came to visit you last night". What was that about?"

She looked at me, a haunted, shaken look in her one good eye. I noticed her fingers were trembling as she reached for her coffee.  
"He.." She took a strengthening swallow. "He came to my quarters."

"Stoppable."

Annoyance banished her fear for a moment. "Will, I'm telling you what I saw was not Stoppable. There is no possible way that he could..could...It was not Stoppable." The last was said in a fierce whisper.

"All right, what happened."

The haunted look returned to her eyes.

II.

_Betty Director looked around her personal quarters, her home; her expression a mixture of dismay and fury. There was no way she was going to allow some politician to destroy all that she, all that GJ had accomplished. There had to be a way. There was no one so pure that there wasn't something they were hiding. With GJ's extensive intelligence gathering capabilities, in short time she would know everything about Senator John Stephen Austin, down to the brand of diapers his mother had used. Then we'd see who told who what to do. She stiffened as the lights dimmed, preparing herself for anything. When she whirled she saw...nothing?_

_She carefully began easing over to the coffee table she had placed her sidearm on. With a quick step she grasped her weapon and turned. Again, nothing._

_Grasping her pistol with both hands in the approved stance she gritted, "All right, I know you're in here, come out where I can see you."_

_"As you wish."_

_Before Betty's widening eye, a black clad figure emerged from the shadows. Keeping her gaze on the intruder, shifting her pistol grip, she brought her wrist communicator toward her mouth. In a move so swift she had no chance to counter, both her wrists were grasped and twisted, the pistol falling from her suddenly flexing fingers. Ignoring the weapon, the man snapped her bracelet apart with two fingers._

_"I would really rather keep this conversation private." How, she couldn't tell, but she knew he was laughing at her._

_Dr. Director glared as he released her. "All right, old school." She snarled. Feinting with her right fist, she brought her left leg up for a strike at his vulnerable knee. _

III.

When the silence had gone on too long, I spoke up, "What happened then? I've seen you use that combination. It's as unstoppable as any strike I know."

"I...I don't know. I missed. Somehow, I missed."

"And then?"

She fiddled with her coffee cup a moment before raising her eyes. "Will, what do you think of my abilities as a fighter. Be honest."

"One of the best I've ever seen." I answered immediately, "You take me two out of three, and I have a better win record against you than any other agent."

"Will, I never touched him. He seemed to be able to touch me at will, but I couldn't even touch him."

She stared back into her cup. I had the feeling she wished it contained something stronger. "I don't see any visible bruises." I ventured.

A strained laugh was her answer. "He never struck me." She must have heard my surprised grunt. "Oh, I'm not saying he didn't touch me, he did. He touched me over and over. If he had carried through I'd be dead or crippled. He just kept at it, and kept at it, until I collapsed at his feet."

"Why...?" I began.

"I don't know. After all he had to have gone through to get through security and into my quarters, why he didn't do more, I just don't know." She raised haggard, infuriated eyes to mine. "But you know what the worst part was?"

"Getting beaten that bad?"

"I've been beaten before. No, he was laughing at me, the whole time he was laughing at me."

"How could you tell? What did he sound like? Did he say anything?"

"No, no, he never made a sound until I fell, except one word as he vanished."

"What?"

"Hubris."

XXXXXXXX

A/N To all those who have reviewed, I promise I have answered. I just hope the bot finally lets my appreciation get to you. As you can see, this is rapidly coming to an end, but there are a few things to decide. Will Kim find out? Or has she known all along. Have Du and Dr. D. surrendered? Is there a possible counter attack in th future? Only the Spectre knows. (EG) Thanks for reading. I hope you've enjoyed it.


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